


Sleep with the fishes

by Neigedens



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Petplay, Slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:05:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neigedens/pseuds/Neigedens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meenah is trying to be kind; she's trying to catch you off-guard. She already tried to shank you once, and it's probably only a macabre alien fascination that has kept her from gutting you like one of her fucking fish. You're sure of this. Her dead eyes tell you a lot more than she thinks they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for dub-con/non-con. Written for [this prompt](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/17313.html?thread=35787169#t35787169) on the kinkmeme.

It's the most important day of your life. Supposedly. And you're stuck in a dream hellscape with some weird punky fish troll.

"Jeez, fucking relax, you chump," says Meenah, for that is her name. She told you, like she was imparting a fucking gift to you. Also, whenever she calls you "chump," (which she does frequently) she emphasizes the first part of the word. " _Chum_ -p," she says, popping her lips on the "p" sound. It's the weakest fish pun yet, but you don't have the heart to tell her that. "Didn't I say you could crash at my place?"

Her place is a strange shell-like house ("hive," she calls it). Staying there is pretty much your only option, at this point. You suppose.

"I know you're tired, dollfish," she says as she leads you to a bedroom. "You can stay here, if you want."

Meenah is trying to be kind; she's trying to catch you off-guard. She already tried to shank you once, and it's probably only a macabre alien fascination that has kept her from gutting you like one of her fucking fish. You're sure of this. Her dead eyes tell you a lot more than she thinks they can. 

You are so, so tired, though. And kind of emotionally drained. It's not every day your cat dies in front of you. Not every day that maybe things start looking up before crashing down into Shitsville again. You're stuck here, in this fucking dream bubble hellscape place, with no way of contacting your friends.

"You're so tired," says Meenah again, and suddenly she's reaching out and stroking your hair. "Aren't you?"

You should swat her filthy fucking fin away, but you don't. You nod slowly. Her nails are threading through your hair, making you shudder, and not in a pleasant way.

Her face is very close to you now. "Like that?" she whispers, and you freeze.

"Stop," you say, grabbing one of those stupid gaudy bangles she wears around her wrist. "The fuck you think you're doing?"

She doesn't let go; she grasps you by the hair, pulling close to the roots, not hard enough to hurt much. "Well, that's not very grateful of you."

"I'm sorry," you snarl. "Do I owe you a pity-fuck because you let me sleep on your dog-bed in your filthy fucking hovel?"

She clenches the fist in your hair harder, but her other hand is stroking your face. One long fingernail is caressing the thin skin beneath your eye. "Well. I didn't say anything about sleeping, did I?"

**== >**

This is such a bad idea. This is the poorest decision you've ever made, and you have made a _lot_ of poor decisions.

But it's easier, to let her keep stroking you. She stops pulling your hair, starts petting you again. Her face is very, very close to yours. She lets out a breath next to one of your ears. It makes you shudder. She mistakes the shudder for one of pleasure.

"Ain't that sweet," she says, grinning. "I think we're gonna get along great."

This is a radical overstatement, but you don't care enough to tell her that, either. You breath out slowly as she tilts your head up by the hair, but you barely breathe at all as she softly kisses your upturned face.

She starts out slowly. Her incredibly soft kisses are almost ludicrous given her personality, like she's trying to parody the image of a soft, caring person. When you start kissing her back with more urgency she lets out a low chuckle and it's then that you feel the scrape of those teeth against your lower lip. Her grip in your hair tightens as she wrenches your head back to kiss her way down your neck. Her fangs are scraping against a ticklish spot between your chin and your neck, making you shudder. You out-and-out _scream_ when she bites down on that spot and sucks on it enough that you definitely have a hickey, in that very obvious spot on your neck. What will become of your reputation now, you wonder, and don't even have the energy to laugh at your own dumb joke.

Meenah's muttering again, letting go of your hair and stroking you again. "You do like that, don't you? You don't even gotta say anything, babe. I can feel you. You love that shit, don't you?"

She's right. Her hands are pushing your legs apart, inching their way up your skirt and you're rubbing yourself against her, frantic for the touch. Not frantic for her, of course. You could give a fuck about Meenah herself, but her hands are electric, rubbing you through your underwear, moving the fabric aside to penetrate you with such force it almost pushes you up against the wall you're sitting against. You almost scream again as she bends down to lick the fabric covering your clit, pressing her tongue firmly over the spot as she almost lifts you bodily with her fingers again.

"See that?" she says with a sneer after you collapse with a shudder against the wall once more. "Like I said. We are going to be some hivemates, huh?"

You're too tired, too overwhelmed by the rush of your orgasm, to respond. She seems ready for bed, too, getting ready to lay down in the weird cocoon thing trolls sleep in. You perform one massive miscalculation and in your post-coital stupor try to follow her into it, but she stops you with another unpleasant laugh.

"Nuh-uh. Steadfast hive rule. All the strays gotta sleep in the kitty bed. Sorry, dollfish. " She points, and of course you're too embarrassed and sleepy to put up an argument. You shrug and curl up on the squishy bed. It's not a big deal, you figure. You sleep and, of course, you don't dream.

**== >**

When you wake she's already up, watching you. Hell, she's dead, who says she even needs to sleep at all? Maybe she was lying in wait, anticipating the moment when you woke up and she could fuck with you some more.

"Hey, dollfish," she says cheerily.

"Can I request a new pet name?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and stretching your legs. Maybe it's just the incredibly shitty bed, but you feel like you didn't sleep long, or particularly well.

"I'll consider it," she says with another sneer, her arms crossed over her scrawny chest. "First things first, though. You gotta take a shower."

That rubs you the wrong way, unsurprisingly. Not a request, as in "Hey you want to wash up or somefin," or even "Hey Lalonde, you stink like day-old tuna." No, it's a command, pure and simple, but whatever. You shrug for probably the millionth time and let her lead you to the bathroom and the so-called ablution trap.

She doesn't make to follow you inside, which is logical enough, of course. You close the door behind you and are glad to have the approximately two minutes of me-time you're allotted before she's barging in, making a racket just as you've gotten your hair wet.

"What the hell?" you shout, peering out with your hair in suds from behind the shower curtain.

"What?" She looks annoyed more than anything; she would appear to be brushing her teeth.

"Little privacy, maybe?" you snap.

"It's my fucking hive, Lalonde," she says. "Deal with it."

You groan, but let the curtain fall back and go back to washing your hair. "Don't you mean _eel with it_ ," you shout, hating yourself just a little bit. You hear her cackle in response.

When you finish and open the curtain with a theatrically bold gesture, she's still there. "I can't believe you don't have anything better to...." You trail off in horror as you take in the rest of the room. You can feel goosebumps forming on your wet skin. "The fuck? Where are my clothes?"

She smiles. "Dunno. Might have lost 'em. Who knows?"

"Those are my premium Dersite lounging jammies, you fucking sea hag. You better give them back to me."

"Or what, kitten?"

"Don't you fucking call me that!"

"Really?" She steps forward and cups your chin, squeezing your cheeks together. "Didn't you want me to give you a new pet name?"

"Fucking--let go of me, you piece of _shit_ \--"

She slaps you then, hard, across the cheek that she was just so gently stroking. You weren't expecting it at all. Your feet slip on the wet surface of the tub, but she catches you under your arms and uses your surprise to pull you towards her, lifting you up by your rear end.

"Did you want to leave, kitten?" she whispers, her claws digging into you as she holds you up. "I guess I'm finding that kinda hard to believe." You're shaking, weak from the adrenaline of almost falling, and still so _cold_. The only warmth is from her mouth, whispering against the hickey she gave you, moving down to the wet valley between your breasts.

 _This such a horrible idea_ is the last conscious thought that you actually clearly articulate before you wrap your legs around her and let her push you against the wall of the shower.

**== >**

Part embarrassment and part brute force is what's keeping you in the hive. You don't really bother to examine just what percentage of each is the driving force.

When she gets done with you in the shower, she drags you into the main area of the hive and makes you get down on your hands and knees. Before you can even respond she begins running her hands down your body in a strangely clinical way.

"What are you--"

"Shut up." She slaps you again, harder than last time, this time on your ass. You do shut up, less out of fear and more because you want her to touch you again so badly, want her hands on your neck, between your breasts, pressing inside you. You know you shouldn't but the idea's transfixing you, even as she touches you now.

Her cold hands are running down your body, feeling your breasts and nipples with more plain curiosity than she's shown in either two encounters so far. She scrapes her nails down your back, down your ass again, until she reaches the slit between your legs.

You're still very wet, which is no surprise, but until she starts feeling you up there you didn't even realize how wet you were. It feels amazing, despite everything.

"You're so _wet_ ," she says, and you can't tell if she's going for sexy talk there-- _you're so_ wet _you naughty_ slut-- or if she's simply stating some sort of biological uncertainty. Is she _not_ wet? Is that not how it works for her, for trolls in general?

You would ask, but she's clearly not in the mood for a conversation. Neither are you, for that matter, with her fingertips gently parting your labia. You press against her hand and she laughs.

"Fucking hell you are one _randy_ piece of work." Her hand stills; she's cupping you and pulling you up by your shoulder so you're now kneeling with her hand still touching you intimately. You rub against her again. She pulls your upper body against her and speaks softly into the shell of your ear.

"You're gonna be my little kitten," she says. Not asking, you notice. The worst part is, with her hand touching you like that, you would agree with her, but part of you knows that your saying yes is, at this point, immaterial.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that day, Meenah does you the favor of clarifying some of those biological uncertainties. Which is a nice way of saying she makes you eat her out, but that's not actually what you're complaining about. You wouldn't mind simply going down on her, since in essence you'd just be returning the favor, but there's also the fact that she wants you to...debase yourself.

Ugh. Debasing yourself is a stupid way to put it, even though that is, technically, what it is. She stole your clothes and now she wants you to pretend to be a slutty kitten, or a "slutkitten," as is the term in the niche porn markets that your bro Dirk Strider would tell you all about, were he here. The fact is, however, that he is not; you're all alone. Thankfully, you are Roxy Lalonde and the fact is that you were born without shame. No shame glands are present in your cerebral cortex.

You did almost draw the line at the the collar, but it wasn't uncomfortable enough to pitch a shitfit about. If your sea hag captor wants to use you to play out the elaborate furry fantasies she was apparently denied growing up because she was raised underwater then...yeah, sure, why the hell not?

"Good little kitty," she says as she fastens the collar. "You're going to be nice and fucking quiet now, _right_?"

You roll your eyes but don't complain. You don't feel like talking either. The last time you two had a chat it descended into a slapfight that wasn't that sexy or that dignified. You can't believe you were childish enough to try and _pull her pigtails_ , even though she's got enough hair to make the idea very tempting.

But that's in the past now. She's pulled you into her lap and is stroking your back in a really shit attempt at an apology, you guess. Who cares, really? You want her to shut up, which she's doing, and you want her to touch you again, which she has also obliged. Fine with you.

You want to touch her, too. You want to see how she ticks, and make her be the one to lose her mind briefly. You are, in fact, a little sick of being the nude one. That's great; you've gotten to the point in your day-old sexy kitty roleplay relationship where you would like to reciprocate with your partner. Your mother would be so proud, if she hadn't died, 400 years ago, while in another dimension. Fucking great.

Meenah's standing up and pulling away, though, and for the first time you feel a sick little flush of embarrassment wash over you. It's one thing to humiliate yourself and pretend to be a sexy kitty for someone you don't even like, but if she isn't going to even get into it then why should you bother?

"What gives?" you asked, annoyed.

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" she snaps, collapsing into an overstuffed armchair on the other side of the room. "Sheee-it are you bad at this."

You glare. It's a transparent attempt at goading you into something, so of course you immediately fall for it. If she wants sexy cat you will be the sexy cat. It is fucking you.

You get up on your hands and knees, but not before stretching out in the languorous, feline way you know so well. You extend your arms, arch your back, and end with your ass pointing in the air. It actually does feel good to stretch, and to know without even looking that she cannot take her blank eyes off of you. You were exhilarated before, but now it's different. It's like you're putting on a show.

You crawl over to where she sits and rub your head against her legs, like real cats do. She wasn't expecting that; she chuckles and reaches down to stroke your hair. "Come up here," she says.

You suppose she meant for you to join her sitting on the huge chair, but you have a better idea. The chair is heavy enough that you think you can do this without fucking up; you leap up onto the armrest and perch yourself up there. You don't manage the graceful leap of an actual cat, but it's pretty fucking close. She wasn't expecting that either. You crawl around to the chair's back so she's forced to look up and behind herself to see you.

"Nice," she says, reaching up to draw your head towards her. You kiss her at a really weird angle, like when Mary-Jane kissed Spider-man in the movie _Spider-man_. Kissing her like this makes navigating the chain links in her mouth a little more perilous. Blood's rushing to your head and pounding in your ears.

"Come here, baby," she says, tugging at your collar. You don't expect it and sort of fall into her lap. "That's a good little kitty, isn't it?" She strokes you, her nails scratching lightly down your breasts and stomach. You spread your legs and press yourself towards her, but she snatches her hand away. "No, not this time. This time you're gonna do something for me, aren't you?"

You actually do know how to purr; you spent a long time as a child developing the skill because why the fuck not, so you do it now. Her smile widens as you do and she kisses you again. "Good girl," she says, and it doesn't make you happy but it does make you feel a little smug and assured of yourself. You run your hands down her narrow chest, squeezing her breasts over her shirt. She arches her back and digs her nails into your ass. "Harder. A lot harder than that, kitten." 

You oblige her, almost cruelly twist at them, and she moans before lifting up her shirt and throwing it away. You rub your palms over the cups of the black bra she's wearing. It's almost too small for her; her breasts are close to spilling over, so it's not hard for you to expose the nipple with your tongue while you roll the other between your fingers. She gasps and grabs the back of your head, rocking it against her chest. You gladly lap at it, nipping and sucking at the now hard nub of flesh, before she stops you.

"That's enough of that," she says out of breath. "Gonna give you something else to lick at, kitty. You'll like that, won't you?" She positions you so you're almost upside down again, with your head in her lap. Her hands have easy access to your slit here, your slit which is so wet and throbbing you wonder if you're dripping on her. She slouches down in the huge chair so she's pretty much just laying on her back. That's a little better for you; she still has you well within her reach (in fact you're straddling her face like this, you realize with a hot flush), but you're not upside down anymore and you don't feel like you're going to explode from the blood rushing to both ends of you.

You scream as her nails dig, _hard_ , into your butt. She's bracing herself against you, forcing her pants and underwear down her legs with one hand. "There you go," she breathes, jerking her hips up toward you and giving your ass another slap. "There you go, kitten. Have at it."

You kiss her on the inside of her thighs lightly, brushing your lips down. She rubs your crotch and labia to encourage you, then slaps you when you don't move fast enough. "Don't be shy, kitten. I know how bad you want to taste me." You feel her warm breath over your slit and you shudder without meaning to. She slaps your crotch even harder. "I said get to it."

You spread her legs more and are confronted with damp labia not unlike your own, with a coarse dark patch of hair above them. You lick up and down the lips once to part them, but she doesn't really react until you find her nook. " _Yes_. Oh yes, you little slut. Put your tongue right there. Harder. Don't you fucking stop." Her hands are alternating between slapping and rubbing you now, sometimes even lightly brushing your clit and letting you feel a frisson of pleasure before she snaps at you again to keep going. 

As it turns out, the reason she knows how to touch your clit so well is because she has a roughly similar part, a cleft towards the top that makes her shudder when you ghost your lips over it properly. She seems to like some combination of penetration and your tongue on her sensitive nub, so with two fingers you hook them inside her and with the rougher part of your tongue lick slowly down the hooded cleft.

She _screams_ and clenches her thighs around your head, holding you in place. You feel her clench around you as she jerks her hips against your mouth and hand, riding it out. 

She tilts her head down and, very carefully and deliberately, takes your clit in her mouth and sucks on it, swirling lightly with her tongue. It takes you completely by surprise. She's touching you on a relatively small area, but it feels more intense than anything you've ever had before. You yell, louder than you ever have before, as you come.

Crawl off of her first seems like a good idea; you don't want to wait for her to give you another slap to make you do so. You land on all fours by the ground at her feet, and look up at her as she sits up with her breasts half-hanging out of her bra and a wide grin on her face.

"Did I tell you to get down?" she asks, and pulls you back up so you're straddling her lap. She runs her hands over you lazily, proprietarily, nuzzling her face in your breasts. "My good kitty," she murmurs, her lips around one nipple. You're still so relaxed you collapse against her shoulder and purr again. Involuntarily this time, even, and it's what makes her tilt your head up.

"I'm keeping you here," she says. "Until you learn to wake the fuck up, you're staying here with me."

"You really need a house cat that badly?" you say. You pause, reflecting on how light-headed you feel. "Hive cat, I guess."

She laughs and kisses you, and tasting yourself on her makes it harder for you to go against what she's saying.

"Need you pretty bad," she mutters into your ear. "Don't worry. I'm gonna need you pretty bad for awhile." She kisses you roughly before you can say anything else.


End file.
